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350 


L'ALLEGRO 

AND 

IL  PENSEROSO 


BY 
JOHN  MILTON 


THE  ELSTON  PRESS 
1903 


Copyright  1903 
ByH.M.O'Kane 


L'ALLEGRO 


m 


L'ALLEGKO 


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ENCE  loathed  Melancholy 
Of  Cerberus,  and  blackest 
midnight  born, 
In  Stygian  Cave  forlorn 
'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and 

shreiks,and  sights  unholy, 

J^^^^^K  Find  out  som  uncouth  cell, 
Wher  brooding  darknes  spreads 
his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night-Raven  sings; 
There  under  Ebon  shades,  and 
low-brow'd  Rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  Locks, 
In  dark  Cimmerian  desert  ever  dwell. 
But  com  thou  Goddes  fair  and  free, 
In  Heav'n  ycleap'd  Euphrosyne, 
And  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth, 
Whom  lovely  Venus  at  a  birth 

9 


L' Allegro   With  two  sister  Graces  more 

To  Ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore; 

Or  whether  (as  som  Sager  sing) 

The  frolick  Wind  that  breathes  the  Spring, 

Zephir  with  Aurora  playing, 

As  he  met  her  once  a  Maying, 

There  on  Beds  of  Violets  blew, 

And  fresh-blown  Roses  washt  in  dew, 

Fill'd  her  with  thee  a  daughter  fair, 

So  bucksom,  blith,  and  debonair. 


Haste  thee  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  "Wiles, 
Nods,  and  Becks,  and  Wreathed  Smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek; 
Sport  that  wrincled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 
Com,  and  trip  it  as  ye  go 
On  the  light  fantastick  toe, 
10 


And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thec,  L' Allegro 

The  Mountain  Nymph,  sweet  Liberty; 

And  if  I  give  thee  honour  due, 

Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crue 

To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 

In  unreproved  pleasures  free; 

To  hear  the  Lark  begin  his  flight, 

And  singing  startle  the  dull  night, 

From  his  watch-towre  in  the  skies, 

Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise; 

Then  to  com  in  spight  of  sorrow, 

And  at  my  window  bid  good  morrow, 

Through  the  Sweet-Briar,  or  the  Vine, 

Or  the  twisted  Eglantine. 

While  the  Cock  with  lively  din, 

Scatters  the  rear  of  darknes  thin, 


And  to  the  stack,  or  the  Barn  dore, 
Stoutly  struts  his  Dames  before, 
Oft  list'ning  how  the  Hounds  and  horn, 
Chearly  rouse  the  slumbring  morn, 

11 


L' Allegro    From  the  side  of  som  Hoar  Hill, 

Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill. 

Som  time  walking  not  unseen 

By  Hedge-row  Elms,  on  Hillocks  green, 

Right  against  the  Eastern  gate, 

Wher  the  great  Sun  begins  his  state, 


Rob'd  in  flames,  and  Amber  light, 
The  clouds  in  thousand  Liveries  dight. 
While  the  Plowman  neer  at  hand, 
Whistles  ore  the  Furrow'd  Land, 
And  the  Milkmaid  singeth  blithe, 
And  the  Mower  whets  his  sithe, 
And  every  Shepherd  tells  his  tale 
Under  the  Hawthorn  in  the  dale. 
Streit  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 
Whilst  the  Lantskip  round  it  measures, 
Russet  Lawns,  and  Fallows  Gray, 
Where  the  nibling  flocks  do  stray, 
Mountains  on  whose  barren  brest 
The  labouring  clouds  do  often  rest: 
12 


L'Allegro 


Meadows  trim  with  Daisies  pide, 
Shallow  Brooks,  and  Rivers  wide. 
Towers,  and  Battlements  it  sees 
Boosom'd  high  in  tufted  Trees, 
Wher  perhaps  som  beauty  lies, 
The  Cynosure  of  neighbouring  eyes. 
Hard  by,  a  Cottage  chimney  smokes, 
From  betwixt  two  aged  Okes, 


Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met, 
Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set 
Of  Hearbs,  and  other  Country  Messes, 
Which  the  neat-handed  Phillis  dresses; 
And  then  in  haste  her  Bowre  she  leaves, 

13 


L' Allegro  With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  Sheaves; 
Or  if  the  earlier  season  lead 
To  the  tann'd  Haycock  in  the  Mead, 
Som  times  with  secure  delight 
The  up-land  Hamlets  will  invite, 
When  the  merry  Bells  ring  round, 
And  the  jocond  rebecks  sound 
To  many  a  youth,  and  many  a  maid, 


Dancing  in  the  Chequer'd  shade; 
And  young  and  old  com  forth  to  play 
On  a  Sunshine  Holyday, 
Till  the  live-long  day-light  fail, 
Then  to  the  Spicy  Nut-brown  Ale, 
"With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
How  Faery  Mab  the  junkets  eat, 
She  was  pincht,  and  pull'd  she  sed, 
And  he  by  Friars  Lanthorn  led 
Tells  how  the  drudging  Goblin  swet, 
To  ern  his  Cream-bowle  duly  set, 
When  in  one  night,  ere  glimps  of  morn, 
14 


His  shadowy  Flale  hath  thresh'd  the  Corn         L' Allegro 

That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end, 

Then  lies  him  down  the  Lubbar  Fend. 

And  stretch'd  out  all  the  Chimney's  length, 

Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength; 

And  Crop -full  out  of  dores  he  flings, 

Ere  the  first  Cock  his  Mattin  rings. 

Thus  don  the  Tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 

By  whispering  Windes  soon  lull'd  asleep, 

Towred  Cities  please  us  then, 

And  the  busie  humm  of  men, 

Where  throngs  of  Knights  and  Barons  bold, 


In  weeds  of  Peace  high  triumphs  hold, 
With  store  of  Ladies,  whose  bright  eies 
Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prise 
Of  Wit,  or  Arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  Grace,  whom  all  commend. 
There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 
In  Saffron  robe,  with  Taper  clear, 
And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 

15 


L'Allegro 


"With  mask,  and  antique  Pageantry, 
Such  sights  as  youthfull  Poets  dream 
On  Summer  eeves  by  haunted  stream. 
Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon, 
If  Jonsons  learned  Sock  be  on, 
Or  sweetest  Shakespear  fancies  childe, 
Warble  his  native  Wood-notes  wilde, 
And  ever  against  eating  Cares, 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  Aires, 
Married  to  immortal  verse 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce 
In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout 
Of  lincked  sweetnes  long  drawn  out, 
"With  wanton  heed,  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running; 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  ty 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony. 
That  Orpheus  self  may  heave  his  head 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heapt  Elysian  flowres,  and  hear 
16 


Such  streins  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free 
His  half  regain'd  Eurydice. 
These  delights,  if  thou  canst  give, 
Mirth  with  thee,  I  mean  to  live. 


L'Allegro 


17 


IL  PENSEROSO 


22 


ILPENSERDSO 


ENCE  vain  deluding  joyes, 
>The  brood  of  folly  without 
father  bred, 
How  little  you  bested, 
Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with 
all  your  toyes; 
^  Dwell  in  som  idle  brain, 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 

As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  Sun  Beams, 

Or  likest  hovering  dreams 

The  fickle  Pensioners  of  Morpheus  train. 

But  hail  thou  Goddes,  sage  and  holy, 

Hail  divinest  Melancholy, 

Whose  Saintly  visage  is  too  bright 

To  hit  the  Sense  of  human  sight; 

And  therf  ore  to  our  weaker  view, 

Ore  laid  with  black  staid  Wisdoms  hue. 

21 


II  Penseroso   Black  ,but  such  as  in  esteem, 

Prince  Memnons  sister  might  beseem, 

Or  that  Starr'd  Ethiope  Queen  that  strove 

To  set  her  beauties  praise  above 

The  Sea  Nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended. 

Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended, 

Thee  bright-hair'd  Vesta  long  of  yore, 

To  solitary  Saturn  bore; 

His  daughter  she  (in  Saturns  raign, 

Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain) 

Oft  in  glimmering  Bowres,  and  glades 

He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 

Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove, 


Whilst  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove. 
Com  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  stedfast,  and  demure, 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain, 
Flowing  with  majestick  train, 
And  sable  stole  of  Cipres  Lawn, 
Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 
22 


Com,  but  keep  thy  wonted  state,  II  Penseroso 

With  eev'n  step,  and  musing  gate, 

And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies, 

Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes: 

There  held  in  holy  passion  still, 

Forget  thy  self  to  Marble,  till 

With  a  sad  Leaden  downward  cast, 

Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast. 

And  joyn  with  thee  calm  Peace,  and  Quiet, 

Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  gods  doth  diet, 

And  hears  the  Muses  in  a  ring, 

Ay  round  about  Joves  Altar  sing. 

And  adde  to  these  retired  leasure, 


That  in  trim  Gardens  takes  his  pleasure; 
But  first,  and  chief est,  with  thee  bring, 
Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing, 
Guiding  the  fiery -wheeled  throne, 
The  Cherub  Contemplation, 
And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along, 
'Less  Philomel  will  daign  a  Song, 

23 


II  Penseroso    In  her  sweetest,  saddest  plight, 

Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  night, 
While  Cynthia  checks  her  Dragon  yoke, 
Gently  o're  th'accustom'd  Oke; 
Sweet  Bird  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 


Most  mu  si  call,  most  melancholy! 
Thee  Chauntress  oft  the  woods  among, 
I  woo  to  hear  thy  eeven-Song; 
And  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  Green, 
To  behold  the  wandring  Moon, 
Riding  neer  her  highest  noon, 
Like  one  that  had  bin  led  astray 
Through  the  Heav'ns  wide  pathles  way; 
And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 
Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 
Oft  on  a  Plat  of  rising  ground, 
I  hear  the  far-off  Curfeu  sound, 
Over  som  wide- water 'd  shoar, 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar; 
24 


Or  if  the  Ayr  will  not  permit, 

Som  still  removed  place  will  fit, 

Where  glowing  Embers  through  the  room 

Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom, 

Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 

Save  the  Cricket  on  the  hearth, 

Or  the  Belmans  drousie  charm, 

To  bless  the  dores  from  nightly  harm: 


II  Penseroso 


Or  let  my  Lamp  at  midnight  hour, 
Be  seen  in  som  high  lonely  Towr, 
Where  I  may  oft  out-watch  the  Bear, 
With  thrice  great  Hermes,  or  unsphear 
The  spirit  of  Plato  to  unfold 
What  Worlds,  or  what  vast  Regions  hold 
The  immortal  mind  that  hath  forsook 
Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook: 
And  of  those  Daemons  that  are  found 
In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  under  ground, 
Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 
With  Planet,  or  with  Element. 

25 


II  Penseroso 


Som  time  let  Gorgeous  Tragedy 
In  Scepter'd  Pall  com  sweeping  by, 
Presenting  Thebs,  or  Pelops  line, 
Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine. 
Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age, 
Ennobled  hath  the  Buskind  stage. 
But,  O  sad  Virgin,  that  thy  power 
Might  raise  Musaeus  from  his  bower, 
Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 
Such  notes  as  warbled  to  the  string, 
Drew  Iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 
And  made  Hell  grant  what  Love  did  seek, 
Or  call  up  him  that  left  half  told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 
Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife, 
That  own'd  the  vertuous  Ring  and  Glass, 
And  of  the  wondrous  Hors  of  Brass, 
On  which  the  Tartar  King  did  ride; 
And  if  ought  els,  great  Bards  beside, 
26 


In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung,  II  Penseroso 

Of  Turneysand  of  Trophies  hung; 

Of  Forests,  and  inchantments  drear, 

Where  more  is  meant  then  meets  the  ear. 

Thus  night  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civil-suited  Morn  appeer, 

Not  trickt  and  frounc't  as  she  was  wont, 

With  the  Attick  Boy  to  hunt, 

But  Cherchef't  in  a  comly  Cloud, 

While  rocking  Winds  are  Piping  loud, 

Or  usher'd  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill, 

Ending  on  the  russling  Leaves, 

With  minute  drops  from  off  the  Eaves. 

And  when  the  Sun  begins  to  fling 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  Goddes  bring 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 


And  shadows  brown  that  Sylvan  loves 
Of  Pine,  or  monumental  Oake, 
Where  the  rude  Ax  with  heaved  stroke, 

27 


II  Penseroso   "Was  never  heard  the  Nymphs  to  daunt, 
Or  fright  them  from  their  hallo w'd  haunt. 
There  in  close  covert  by  som  Brook, 
Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 


Hide  me  from  Day's  garish  eie, 
While  the  Bee  with  Honied  thie, 
That  at  her  flowry  work  doth  sing, 
And  the  Waters  murmuring 
With  such  consort  as  they  keep, 
Entice  the  dewy-feather'd  Sleep; 
And  let  som  strange  mysterious  dream, 
Wave  at  his  Wings  in  Airy  stream, 
Of  lively  portrature  display'd, 
Softly  on  my  eye-lids  laid. 
And  as  I  wake,  sweet  musick  breath 
Above,  about,  or  underneath, 
Sent  by  som  spirit  to  mortals  good, 
Or  th'unseen  Genius  of  the  Wood. 
But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail, 
To  walk  the  studious  Cloysters  pale, 
28 


And  love  the  high  embowed  Roof, 

With  antick  Pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  Windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dimm  religious  light. 

There  let  the  pealing  Organ  blow, 

To  the  full  voic'd  Quire  below, 

In  Service  high,  and  Anthems  cleer, 

As  may  with  sweetnes,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  extasies, 

And  bring  all  Heav'n  before  mine  eyes. 

And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 

Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 

The  Hairy  Gown  and  Mossy  Cell, 

Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell, 

Of  every  Star  that  Heav'n  doth  shew, 

And  every  Herb  that  sips  the  dew; 

Till  old  experience  do  attain 

To  somthing  like  Prophetic  strain. 

These  pleasures  Melancholy  give, 

And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 


II  Penseroso 


HERE  END  THE  TWO  POEMS 

L'ALLEGRO  AND  IL  PENSEROSO 

WRITTEN  BY  JOHN  MILTON 
FIRST  PRINTED  IN  1645,  FROM  THE  TEXT 

OF  WHICH  EDITION 
ONE  HUNDRED  AND  SIXTY  COPIES 

HAVE  BEEN  PRINTED 
WITH  DECORATIONS  CUT  ON  WOOD 

FROM  DESIGNS  BY  H.  M.  O'KANE 
PRINTED  AND  SOLD  BY  CLARKE  CONWELL 

AT  THE  ELSTON  PRESS 
NEW  ROCHELLE  NEW  YORK 

•     FINISHED  THIS 
SIXTEENTH  DAY  OF  DECEMBER 
MDCCCCIII 


•^ 


